The Source of Magic: A Fantasy Romance

by Rowan, Cate

  “Aye,” Mellec said, shaking his head. “They were mad for power. Couldn’t get enough, especially Himself.”

  “Bhruic wanted—and still wants—more,” Resara said. “More estates, more wealth, more power. He’s a bottomless pit of want.” She looked Jilian in the eye and tapped twice on the table in emphasis. “When he’d seized or outright stolen all he could from the people of Fallorm and taxed them to their limits, and they cried out—”

  “Can’t get water from a pond you’ve already drained,” Mellec said dourly.

  “—he knew he’d have to do more.” Resara sat back. “And so he did. He raised an army. Promised the new soldiers hot meals, good wages, and a stake in what they took in. Just what they’d be takin’, wasn’t told to most. Many joined in desperation. They had families and children to feed. And those the most desperate joined first.”

  Jilian put her elbows on the table and leaned toward Resara, chin in hands.

  “To begin with,” Resara said, “they were ordered to seize the farms of those who’d fallen behind in their taxes. Some didn’t want to—after all, many of the new soldiers were from farming families—but under pain of the whip and the sword, they did. Other soldiers told themselves that might was right. And, at least for the moment, they were the might.

  “And the mighty often do what they will, simply because they can.” Resara swallowed and stared at the table. “And that’s what marks the good from the bad.”

  After a moment, Resara turned to Alvarr and spoke in a soft voice. “I thank Fate’s kindness every night that I’m here now in your realm, m’lord.”

  The prince held the woman’s gaze. “Resara,” he said gently, “it is I who count myself lucky to know you and Mellec—two honorable, loyal people.”

  Resara took a deep breath, then turned to Jilian. “Some men like power. They like the feeling power gives them. And they like seeing the destruction they can wreak. Bhruic is such a man, and so are many he employs.” She closed her eyes briefly. “One morning, some of his soldiers came to my family’s farm. My parents had long since passed on, and my sister Alyrra was in charge. They made short work of her, and of my brother Ennu. I saw them…later…”

  Mellec reached for his wife’s hand and squeezed.

  Resara gazed down at table again. “I was in the dairy barn with a birthing heifer. The heifer had calved in the wee hours, and afterwards I’d laid down for a rest in the stall next to her. They…the soldiers…found me there.”

  She stopped and looked at Jilian, woman to woman.

  Jilian closed her eyes and shook her head. She guessed what had happened; it didn’t need to be said.

  “They took everything they could carry off, most to sell in the nearest town square, and some to retain for themselves, of course. And…well, they took me as well. The slave trade had begun, with Bhruic’s approval. It’s easier to keep slaves than to keep a people’s good will.” She shrugged again.

  “But that’s when I first saw Mellec.” She gave her husband a soft smile. “He saw me in the slave-line as our caravan entered the city. Our eyes met…” Resara reached out a palm to caress his cheek.

  Jilian squashed the urge to look at Alvarr, and rubbed a phantom itch on her ear instead.

  “I knew,” Mellec said, looking at his wife with shining eyes. “I just knew. And that night, I slipped into the slave-pen and cut her bonds.”

  “We ran as fast as we could,” Resara said. “Until our legs were numb. And then we headed into the Nerils.”

  “I had ties with some families along the way,” Mellec added. “We had a little help. The crossing was terrible—we had to be careful—Bhruic’s soldiers were everywhere. But Fate smiled on us.”

  Resara continued. “We made it into Teganne, and went to m’lord Prince,” and she nodded at Alvarr, “newly come to the throne in Ysanne. He listened to our story, as he did for many other refugees. He fed and clothed us, and we worked in Ysanne for a time. Then he gave us this land. To raise lirrfruits and Darmet fowl again, he said—”

  Jilian watched Alvarr’s quiet smile.

  “—and here we are. Our own farm, with fowl and fruit both.”

  Exhaling a comforted sigh, Jilian looked around the kitchen. It was a bit rough-worn, but sunny and light, and obviously well-loved. “That’s…” she paused, searching for words. “That’s a remarkable story. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

  “It’s a dark tale,” Mellec said, “but has a happy ending.”

  Alvarr’s smile faded at that.

  “I enjoyed telling it.” Resara grinned. “But I’m sure it’s delayed your trip. Would you like anything more?” She nodded at the serving platters.

  Jilian glanced down at her plate and realized with a guilty pang that there was quite a bit left. She was no longer hungry, but she didn’t want to offend.

  “Nay, don’t worry, m’lady” Resara said, removing the empty dishes from the table. “I’m not a big eater of breakfast myself, my husband’s prize fowl or no.” She winked at them. “I’ve got plenty of good food to put in your packs, though.”

  “Thank you, Resara.” Alvarr pushed his chair back. “Yes, we should take our leave.”

  His eyes were somber. She wondered what the conversation had meant to him, particularly the last part, when he’d seemed troubled about the happy ending. Did he think it wasn’t happy?

  It’s not that, she realized, studying him. He thinks it hasn’t ended yet. Because of Bhruic.

  And I’m going to leave him in the lurch. Guilt seeped through her.

  No, I’m going home to my dying mother. It’s as simple as that, she argued back—and almost made herself believe it. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  As they left the cottage behind and returned to the trail, Alvarr reined closer to Jilian. “Tonight we’ll begin your training.” Then he pressed his mount ahead of hers. Those were about the only words he spoke to her during the long hours on the road.

  Without Kalen, conversation, or other nice distractions, Jilian had plenty of time to think about Mellec and Resara’s past and what it all meant—for them, for Alvarr, for her. She wasn’t thrilled with the implications.

  This world is not my problem, she told herself. Not. My. Problem.

  But guilt was growing into a feral beast with claws.

  Their mounts spent more and more time climbing. Each hill led to a higher valley, fewer trees, and wind. The breeze had begun pleasant, but as they ascended, it grew brisk, then biting. The warm rays of the sun were often blocked by the bulk of hillsides. No, not hills, these were mountains now.

  And then there was Alvarr, who was ignoring her. He’d given her a devastating smile in the morning and had barely noticed her existence since.

  Of course, as long as he ignored her she wasn’t getting the Source training, whatever that was. And maybe it was best not to get it. Especially if the instruction involved touching. She recalled the stroke of his fingers along her wrist when he’d tried to begin the training back in the castle. Her wrist tingled, and she rubbed it against her stomach to ease it.

  C’mon, Jil. You’re a modern woman, aren’t you? Why not just take the gorgeous prince to bed? He’s hot, sexy, makes you warm in all sorts of interesting places…and hey, he probably knows how to do it well. You’re on another world, you’re going home soon—what have you got to lose?

  An unwanted answer shuddered through her as she stared at his back: Everything.

  Alvarr sat tall and magnificent in the saddle, the sun glinting off the pommel of the rich sword at his hip. She studied the design of swirling, knotting lines along his leather scabbard and the darker leather wrapping the sword’s hilt. The pommel was intricately etched, without jewels or other flourishes.

  She wondered how heavy the steel sword was and what it was like to wield it. Her right hand curved as she imagined the weapon’s weight in her palm. How old was the blade? How long had it taken him to master it? She opened her mouth to ask hi
m, but glanced again at his aloof back. She resealed her lips.

  Fool, she told herself. Why do you care what he thinks about you, one way or the other? He’s just using you to solve a problem. He would keep you tied to him until it’s done and then you’d be kicked aside. Didn’t you learn enough about that crap from Matt?

  But her conscience gnawed at the edges of her thoughts.

  Alvarr’s moans from the night before replayed in her ears. Her body warmed in reaction, even in memory.

  She growled under her breath. Leave his sex life to him. He seems quite capable of managing it himself. Besides, he’s a prince. I bet his motto is do ‘em and ditch ‘em.

  She raised her chin and let her gaze burn through Alvarr’s oblivious back.

  The evening slid into a moonlit night as they reached their next campsite. Alvarr dismounted and surveyed the clearing—low wind, not far from the trail, yet far enough to be out of sight. Fortunately, being spotted was unlikely, since there weren’t many people with reason to venture this high into the Nerils—and for any who might, magery gave him many varieties of appropriate response.

  As he unbuckled his fydd’s saddle, he saw Jilian doing the same for Halbeth. He held up a palm. “Wait, I’ll help with that.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve got it.” Her slim fingers made the proper adjustments, and she removed the saddle without risk to fydd or herself. “I’ve ridden beasts before, and I’m a quick study.”

  Hmmph. He continued with his own saddle and kept a discreet eye on her. Grudgingly, he admitted to himself that she seemed competent at camping and traveling, even if she was fydd-sore.

  He watched her retrieve the food Resara and Mellec had given them and lay it out on a rock. She walked slowly around the campsite, digging at one or two places with her toes, and then eyed the forest.

  When she turned to him, he shot a judicious glance into the forest himself. “This high up, it’s not a bad idea for you to stay close to camp.” Where I can keep an eye on you and any escape plans.

  “Why?” She tilted her head.

  “Oh, I suppose one never knows,” he said in a nonchalant voice.

  She frowned and studied the trees. “Well, is there anything I should know about the actual wood around here?”

  “The actual wood?”

  “Yes, dead tree branches and stuff. Is anything poisonous? Or totally non-flammable? It’s cold, and I’d like to start a campfire.”

  Smiling, he leaned against his fydd. “I know a better way.”

  “Better than wood?” She looked skeptical.

  He paced toward the center of the camp. “Where did you want the fire?”

  “Here.” She pointed to one of the depressions in the ground she’d examined.

  “Fine,” he said. “But you might want to move.”

  Quirking an eyebrow, she took two steps back.

  At his command, fire whooshed to life, then grew—three feet, then six, then ten feet high. Alvarr studied her expression from the corner of his eye.

  She crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “I think that’s a bit much, don’t you?”

  Sighing, he brought the flames down to a size suitable for cooking and warmth. “Will that do?”

  “Yes, nicely, thank you.” She headed toward her pack and the food, then stopped. “I don’t suppose you could—” she waved her hand in the air— “conjure up a couple of chairs, could you?”

  “Trail life is losing its appeal, is it? Well, come to think of it, a few comforts here and there couldn’t hurt. Vedalor.” Two cushioned seats appeared comfortably near the fire.

  “Thanks.” She gave him a wink.

  He watched her bend to retrieve the food near her pack, her shapely backside emphasized by the tightened trousers. Before his trousers could do the same, he turned and walked in the other direction.

  Damn it all. It’s forbidden, and more importantly, I can’t trust her to do what’s right for Teganne. What she wants is not what I want.

  He picked up the brush to curry Jilian’s fydd and stole another glance at her. She knelt by the saddlebags to pull together their dinner. Half-turned away, the curve of her cheek lit by the new flames, she removed her hat to readjust her ponytail. Despite the trail dust from the day, locks of her hair glinted in the firelight.

  I should begin her training tonight. Truly, I should have done it as soon as we left. With a short, frustrated sigh, he moved to the other side of Halbeth so Lady Temptation wouldn’t be visible.

  She needs training to be my Source, but to do it I’ll have to touch her…to open myself to her energy on every level. Every. Sensual. Level. Thoren’s warnings rang in his head.

  A connection between Mage and Source has to be far simpler than I’m fearing. Other pairs have bonded over the centuries and haven’t succumbed to desire. She’s a Source, and this is the only way to make use of her powers—and that I must do, for Teganne.

  Tomorrow. I’ll begin tomorrow. He set his jaw.

  Alvarr woke in the night, disoriented, then cursed himself for the whole situation. It was futile to try to stay awake for the entire trip to keep an eye on her, but he still wished he hadn’t fallen asleep as soon as he was horizontal.

  He sat up and looked at where she’d rolled up in her cloak that evening, then around the rest of the small clearing.

  She was gone.

  The bitter tang of suspicion filled his mouth. He glanced toward the fydds. They were both there, asleep, and he exhaled. Maybe she’s just taking a privy break.

  Forcing himself to lie back, he tuned in to the quiet sounds of the night. If she were nearby he could find her quickly with his mind-sense, but if she was taking a privy break, he’d not intrude. He screwed his eyes shut and told himself to count to 100.

  1, 2, 3…

  What if she’s escaping on foot?

  Ridiculous. She’s never been to Alaia before, much less the Nerils, and doesn’t know this trail. It’s a very long way back to Ysanne powered by only two legs, and where else would she go? Keep counting.

  34, 35, 36…

  The stars have turned since I fell asleep. She could be miles away already!

  Just count.

  77, 78, 79…

  What if she took a privy break, but got attacked by something—or someone? Dalgors shouldn’t be this close to the road, and yet…

  That did it. He rolled to his feet and buckled his swordbelt, grateful he hadn’t removed his clothing or boots. The frosty air swirled over him, but he barely noticed it over the thrum of tension. Which direction?

  Stretching his mind-sense north beyond the fydds, he felt nothing within range but tiny sleeping jackamunks. He turned east, the way home, then south to the mountainside, and sensed no human presence. West…

  There she was, moving away, all alone.

  Sneaking away from camp.

  He walked sure-footedly into the darkness.

  Ahh, that’s better, Jilian thought, having relieved her bladder behind a thick trunk. Nothing wrecks a good sleep quite as much as needing to pee.

  She took a few steps toward the campsite, but the woods were so beautiful in the moonlight. All around her, branches curved darkly into the sky and leaves rustled in a gentle wind. The sounds reminded her of happy evenings at Lake Tahoe, trading secrets and stories with her mother under the curving walls of their tent.

  She leaned back against the nearest tree, braced her palms on the rippled bark and closed her eyes.

  A glance up through the branches showed a clear night sky, and she wished she could see all the constellations. Were they the same here as on Earth? Perhaps so, if what Varene and Rokad had said was true.

  Through the trees a short way ahead stood a small clearing and a boulder that would make a good perch for stargazing, so close she’d probably still be able to see camp from it. She headed toward it.

  The slightest crack of a twig behind her was her only warning. Spinning, she raised an uncertain fist. A strong hand grabbed her shoulder, her
chest connected with a male body and her fist met empty air. The body smelled good. Alvarr.

  “What the hell…” She glared as he pinned her arms to her sides.

  His eyes blazed in the darkness. “Why were you sneaking off?”

  “I wasn’t sneaking,” she huffed. “I was walking to that rock so I could look at the stars.” She jerked her head toward the boulder.

  He only clamped her harder against his chest. “You’ve been gone much longer than it takes to walk here.”

  “Well, forgive me for needing a good pee,” she snapped, and stomped her heel onto his booted toes. The bastard didn’t even flinch. “Let go of me. Isn’t it enough that you kidnapped me? Must I be your chained hostage too?”

  Alvarr’s eyes burned into her and his voice roughened. “You swore an oath. Where’s your heart? Don’t you care about your mother’s people? Doesn’t their plight bother you?”

  His words yanked her guilt from its shallow grave. “My heart? It’s breaking for my mother,” she snarled. “Whom I haven’t seen in a week. And all I did was go for a pee and decide to look at stars.” She ground down harder on his boot, wishing he were barefoot. “Exactly where do you think I’d run from here?” He’d trapped her, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t spit in his eye…

  No. She forced herself to take a breath and get smart. What she wanted most was for him to release her. Even ignoring the vise around her arms, he still smelled good and was too close for comfort.

  Far too close. The hard plane of his chest didn’t yield, but her breasts did. Uggh, you traitors, she thought, as her nipples warmed and rose.

  “Where would I go?” she repeated in a lower voice. “I’m in a world totally unknown to me until a week ago. I haven’t so much as seen a map since I arrived. I may have a marvelous sense of direction,” and she raised her gaze in challenge, “but I can hardly be expected to escape this world without a little help in the map department. Not to mention a spaceship, a wormhole, a ‘portal’, or whatever it takes me to get back home from here. So—despite my fervent wishes otherwise—you’re calling the shots, Mr. Prince of Teganne.”